


The 14th Floor

by sogoodbye



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Supernatural Elements, daejae being angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:56:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sogoodbye/pseuds/sogoodbye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yoo Youngjae lives in an apartment with only 13 floors.</p><p>What happens when he met a certain Satan living on the non-existing 14th floor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

My name is Yoo Youngjae, a 23 year-old fresh graduate from Seoul University with a degree in accounting. I got a job as an accountant almost instantly after I graduate and the pay was pretty decent. I could afford to rent an apartment located at the corner of the city. Truthfully I despise accounting. Hell, I hate numbers.

 

My dream is to be an artist. No, It’s not just a typical infant dream where elementary teachers asked what your dream is and kids would usually answer with doctor, teacher, artist, scientist…… No. It’s a dream I held on to for 18 years but shattered into pieces ever since I started college because my parents think that being an artist wouldn’t bring me far in life and also because I’m not Leonardo da Vinci.. Very offensive; but true.

 

I don’t wanna sound so full of myself, but I’m really good in painting portraits of human figures. I still paint during my free time and as a hobby. Something that I like to do to take things off my mind from work. I have a few portraits of my parents, my beautiful sister, and also some of beautifully described characters from novels that I love.

 

You see, the apartment I live in has only 13 floors. 4 months after I moved in, I constantly encounter with this beautiful stranger. Raven hair, thick yet chapped lips, eyes that twinkle yet so abject; as if he’s constantly in pain. This beautiful stranger who is hazardous towards me yet I blindly fell in love with him.

 

His name is Jung Daehyun, and he lives on the 14th floor.


	2. Two.

Working is hell.

Doing a job that you have zero interest in makes it a hundred times worst.

It was raining. It doesn’t usually bother me. I would bring a portable umbrella with me to work every day. That day was an exception though. I woke up 30minutes late, fumbled around my apartment to get ready to work and bringing a portable umbrella is definitely at the very far end of my mind at that moment. Hey, don’t blame me for waking up late. I had to stay up till 3 in the morning to finish my company’s annual accounting report.

“Hyung, are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home? You might catch a cold walking in this weather.”

Choi Junhong, my fellow co-worker and my lil baby. Did I mention that he’s a genius too? Two years younger than me and he has graduated from college. Definitely insane.

“I’m fine Junhong-ah. Keep it to yourself. I don’t want my baby to get sick.”

“At least wait until the rain stops?” Junhong cringes as the thunder roars.

I laughed at him, 21 years old and he’s still afraid of thunders.

“Alright, I’ll wait until the rain subsides a little. Now quickly go home! You don’t wanna miss dinner time with your family!”

Junhong opens up his umbrella and stepped out of our office building; a pink umbrella with paw prints painted all over it. Sometimes I just don’t understand this boy’s taste.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then hyung. Take care!” He waves, and slowly disappears into the crowd of heavy human traffic and rain.

 

* * *

 

 

I am not a person with a whole lot of patience. My patience runs thin in a very short amount of time.

So, I ran home from my office after waiting for 5 minutes and the rain hasn’t subsided.

I reached my apartment block, drenched from head to toe. That’s what I get for running under the rain with my briefcase over my head in hope that it’d magically work as well as an umbrella.

I hit the elevator button furiously while attempting to dry my clothes my twisting and squeezing it, not wanting to be in this wet condition any longer.

The elevator dings, and the door opens. I made my way in while still miserably trying to dry myself as much as possible. Water droplets dripped around me as I enter. There’s someone inside too, I noticed.

“Do you mind helping me press the button for the 13th floor?” I asked politely while brushing my damp hair.

The elevator doesn’t move. I looked up and met eyes with this stranger leaning against the rails in the elevator, starring at me intensely. He has honey brown eyes, chapped lips, slightly tanned skin, and hair color as black as the soul of Satan.  His choice of color in clothes is extremely dull. He wore a black top, a black leather jacket, black jeans, black canvas shoes. Perfect definition of Satan.

 I ceased my brows. Rude, I thought. I cautiously made way and pushed the button for the 13th floor.

I could feel the stranger’s eyes scanning my every move. I stood awkwardly in the far corner opposite of this stranger; making extra effort to refrain myself from stealing glances at him as the elevator accelerates upwards, the numbers on the tiny elevator screen gradually increases.

The stranger stared at me so intensely I could feel his glare penetrate through my skulls. I felt very intimidated and a sudden wave of claustrophobia hit me. Being enclosed in this tiny elevator with this stranger was eerie. It was an abnormal aura; an unusual feeling. I’ve been riding this elevator daily for four months and this is this the first time I’ve ever felt claustrophobic. I silently chanted at the back my head in hope that the elevator would somehow accelerate faster; I didn’t want to be alone with this stranger any longer. 

8…9…10…

Almost there, almost there.

11….12….

The elevator halted rapidly. The power went out and I let out an audible gasp of horror, gripping the bars to keep myself from falling due to the force of inertia.

**_Save me…._ **

A whisper; a cry…. A barely audible whisper. Almost as if the owner of this voice is in extreme pain.

The power came back after a few short seconds. My grip against the bar was so tight I could feel my nails digging into my flesh.

The elevator operates again as if nothing unusual happened. The elevator dings, the tiny screen shows that we’ve reached the 13th floor, the door opens. My eyes were wide from horror and I breathed short uneven breaths. I looked up slowly to see that this certain stranger was still leaning at his same spot still starring at me with soulless eyes.

I rushed out of the elevator, wanting to get away from this stranger; to get a nice hot shower and convince myself that I was just being delusional due to the lack of sleep from the previous night. Maybe it was the rain. Yeah, definitely the rain.

I fumbled with my keys, clumsily poking the key into the hole as I hear the elevator door closed behind me. Just then it hit me.

He never pressed any button in the elevator. He did not initiate which floor he intended to go.

I turned my back and looked up at the tiny screen right on top of the elevator.

The screen showed 14.

The elevator stopped at the 14th floor.

This block has only 13 floors.

 

 

* * *

 

That night Youngjae dreamed. It wasn’t a pretty dream. His dream was filled with burning heat, blinding flames, and horrifying cries.

The stranger (or maybe delusion) he met in the elevator was in his dream too. 

 

 


	3. Three.

I had a dream. It wasn’t a pretty dream. It was a dream filled with burning heat, blinding flames, and horrifying cries.

Everything seemed to be a piece of mosaic scene. It was a blur, yet a scene so vivid that it imprinted in my head. People were screaming and crying and everything was just chaotic. Fireman urging people to move out from this horrifying scene, a father carrying his daughter while escaping,  I could feel the intense heat and I could see thick smoke surrounding me as I stood in the middle of this chaotic scene.

Fire. This place caught fire and people were running for their lives. This place, however, looks awfully familiar to me. The setting looks exactly like the corridor of my apartment block.

A lady caught my attention. A lady probably around her mid 50’s. She was on her knees; her face painted with multiple emotions of grief and desperation. She begged a fireman to save her son who was sleeping peacefully in his room, unknowing of the huge fire breakout.

The fireman was desperate too; desperate to bring this lady to stand on both feet and evacuate her from the scene. She refused, struggled, screamed; she refused to leave without her son.

Cries. I could hear horrifying cries; cries from a boy from inside one of the rooms. He was trapped inside his room, begging to be saved. The fire spread out so rapidly and it was impossible to enter the room; impossible to save the boy trapped inside.

From the corner of my eye something caught my attention. Or I would rather say someone caught my attention.

Him. It’s him. That stranger so intimidating, intriguing yet frightening that I encountered in the elevator. He stood by the corner watching the push and pull going on between the lady and the fireman. His soulless eyes leaked tears. Painful , scalding tears.

The fireman managed to evacuate the lady out from the scene with much effort despite her continuous pleas to save her son. The stranger’s gaze followed the lady and the fireman out of the scene. Tears pooled in my eyes as if I were about to cry. But you can’t cry when dreaming, right? My palms hover over my mouth as I choked in a sob.

The stranger has his gaze fixated on me along with his tear-streaked face. I could see the wild fire slowly spreading from behind the stranger, slowly engulfing him into the burning flames as he stood there unmoving and emotionless.

**_Save me…._ **

 I screamed and ran towards him; wanting to pull him out from the flames, to pull him out from whatever misery that he’s suffering, to pull him out from the pain.

 

Instead, I woke up panting hard and sweating; my pillow drenched in tears.

 

 

 

“Youngjae-hyung, are you alright?” Junhong plopped down on his seat beside my cubicle office. He placed a cup of hot mocha on my desk as he slurped the coffee from his cup.

I had my left cheek planted flatly against my desk, arms burying my face. My right hand blindly reached out for the coffee.

“I’m tired Junhong-ah. I couldn’t sleep well last night.” I sat up once I managed to reach for the coffee. Great, coffee is definitely what I needed to keep me through another half a day of work.

“No shit Sherlock, you look like you’ve been deprived from sleep for 10 years.”

I sipped my coffee. The images from my dream the night before played so vividly in my mind. Sure, I’ve have countless of dreams before this one but usually I’d forget about them a few minutes after I woke up. This one was an exception. It scares me how I could remember every single detail from this dream. 

“Junhong-ah,” He hums in acknowledgement. “Have you ever had a dream where you could remember every single detail even after you have woken up for hours?”

“Yeah, only once. It wasn’t a good sign for me though.”  

His answer ignites my curiosity.

“What happened?”

“I dreamed about my World History lecturer conducting an impromptu quiz in class and it really happened the next day after I woke up.”

I chuckled. “What’s so bad about it?”

“Well, I sort of flunked that paper badly…”

“By flunking you mean by scoring 90% on that test?”

“That’s not the point! The point is that something bad happened when I remember my dream.”

Point taken, I guess.

 

 

 

I unlocked the door into my apartment. Part of me feeling relief that no weird encounter happened yet part of me wants to see him again. I want to ask him questions. Questions that had been lingering in my head and it bugs the hell out of me sanity.  _Why am I having weird dreams of him? Why did the elevator stopped at the 14 th floor? Does he have some kind of magical power where he could temporary cut off the power of the elevator? Or was it just a coincidence? _

I threw my briefcase on the couch. I undid my tie and unbutton a few buttons on my dress shirt as I twist my neck left and right, cracking a few bones in the process. My eyes then wandered to a certain corner of my room. I smiled as I walked towards it.

Brushes, crayons and pencils scattered around the place. It’s a corner where I usually do my sketches and paintings; It’s a corner where I could seek relief from stress usually due to work.

I sat down on my working chair as I pulled out a blank sheet of canvas, placing it on the stand. I fold up my sleeves until it reaches my elbow length. Grabbed a few brushes with variance of sizes, pulled out a box of half-hardened watercolors and also some crayons.

It’s funny how I had his facial features imprinted in my head so vividly despite having seen him only once (twice if seeing him in my dream counts). How I could remember the curves of his lips, the way his hair falls slightly over his eyebrows, and that mole located right below his left eye.

As I work on this masterpiece, a tiny voice behind my head constantly yells at me saying: “Yoo Youngjae,you’re in big big trouble.”

 

* * *

 

 

Youngjae fell asleep way past midnight. He managed to present the image that has been bothering him all day through this portrait. Youngjae doesn’t know that someone had been watching him while he painted.

As soon as Youngjae fell asleep, the intruder reached for the painting.

He sees himself in the painting. He sees himself in pain through the painting. Flames, solemn expression, quivering lips. Everything about this portrait is so dull; so identical to him that he almost mistaken the painting as a mirror yet he noticed something different.

His eyes. Youngjae painted his soulless eyes with life.

 


	4. Four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited chapter 2. So if you read this before this update, please do read it again as Chapter 2 is now chapter 3 and I added another chapter that is now chapter 2!

It’s been a week since the elevator incident. I’ve been so caught up with work and working overtime that all my fear and curiosity were pushed back at the very far end of my mind; almost as if the elevator incident didn’t happened at all.

 

It was around 10pm when I left my office. Visible dark bags formed below my eyes as I’ve been sleep deprived for days. I yearn nothing more than to hibernate until late afternoons and I was just so glad that there’s no work the next day. Yes, more sleep.

 

I lazily hit the elevator button, wanting nothing more than just sleep while I leaned my fatigue body against the wall. I closed my eyes as I rested my head backwards. Working as an accountant sucks because 1. I hate numbers and 2. It was never my dream job. Hell, I don’t even know why did I complied with my parents request during my not-so-rebellious teenage years.

 

Guess I’ll be stuck with this crappy job for the rest of my life.

 

The elevator dings and the door opens, I let out a breathy sigh as I walk towards the elevator. However I halted almost abruptly when I saw the person inside. He’s there again; just when I completely forgotten about him. He’s still wearing those same dull clothes, still leaning against the side of the elevator. His still soulless eyes stared into my widened ones. The dreams, the non-existent 14th floor, the elevator incident a week ago played in my head as we continue to stare at each other.

 

I convinced myself that I was hallucinating. Maybe by walking it’d clear my mind off things although I wasn’t sure if I would make it halfway through 13 flights of stairs especially when I feel like I would pass out any moment. So, I opted for the stairs.

 

 I turned left towards the fire exit stairs, mind clouded with confusion. However, I barely took two steps when a voice called out.

 

“I know you have questions, “ his voice was gravelly; low and rough. It was toneless and throaty too yet he spoke so softly. “I have answers to your questions.”

I caught his bait.

 

I paused in my steps for quite some time as an internal debate goes on in my head. Yes, I have questions and yes, I want answers.

 _Curiosity killed the cat._ It was a metaphor I’ve never taken seriously. I hesitantly walked back into the elevator taking small, cautious steps. I dared myself to look at him and I could feel my heart rate increasing each second.

 

He looks exactly like how he is in my dreams. The only difference is probably his skin tone. He’s much tan from what I remembered seeing him the first time and also from my dreams. His raven hair falls right over his eyebrows and hell, he’s hot. Definitely my type of guy (that is if he’s human).

 

“13th floor, am I right?” He did not wait for my reply and pushed the button to the 13th floor. The elevator door closed, that slight claustrophobia hits me again. 

 

“Who are you,” I asked, not realizing that my voice was shaking from fear. As far as I know I might not make it to the 13th floor and I might probably be murdered inside here.

 

“Daehyun. Jung Daehyun.”

 

“No, I don’t mean your name. I mean what are you?”

 

He took two steps towards me and I just stumbled clumsily backwards, trying to create as much space as possible between us. “I don’t know, Youngjae, what do you want me to be?”

 

 _Holy fuck, he knows my name._  I glanced up at the tiny screen on the top right to see the number 9 displayed which switched to 10 just momentarily. I need to get on point in my questions.

 

“The 14th floor,” I paused awhile before looking back at him from the elevator screen. “There’s only 13 floors in this apartment building.”

 

Daehyun let out a smirk. The right corner of his lips curved upwards as smiled. He took another step towards me; he’s invading my personal space. Instinctively I wanted to move to the other corner of the elevator but both his hands extended forward and rested palm flat beside my head against the wall. I let out a gasp.

 

“You’re not really sociable, aren’t you?” Daehyun leaned forward, his breath ghosting against my cheek as I turned my head aside. He’s too fucking close. “Maybe you should start by socializing with the grandmother who lives on your right, you might find out more about the history of this apartment building.”

 

The elevator dings and the door opened once again. I pushed him away abruptly and rushed out of the elevator. My heart pounded in my chest so rapidly I felt like I would collapse any moment if I continued staying between a close radius with him. He chuckled in amusement behind me. “By the way, Youngjae, you drew me really prettily.”

 

The elevator doors closed and moves up to the 14th floor.

 

Daehyun's reply were all ambiguous and he never really answered any of my questions. Instead, he left me hanging with more.

 

* * *

Youngjae had a dream, again. This time it wasn’t about flames and horrifying screams. There were still screams, but it was screams of pleasure. It was  _his_  own sccreams.

_Screams of pleasures from having sex with Daehyun._

 


	5. Five.

I thought I could sleep in till late in the afternoon. Guess I was wrong.

 

I never had an erotic dream. A dream that felt so real and vivid like we really had sex. The way he touched and held me so delicately felt so surreal. His lips mold together with mine so perfectly. I could feel his breath ghosting across my skin as he kissed me down. The sound of his voice calling out my name with each thrust… It all felt too real to be dreaming.

 

I tossed and turned around my bed for about an hour before deciding to get up at around 6am for a morning run to clear my mind off things. There’s too many unusual encounter these days I’m not even sure if it’s reality, or did I go insane and all these images are just hallucination.

 

I ran and ran and ran. It was a cold morning. I had my sweatpants and sweater on as I ran along the sidewalk. Slide images of Daehyun randomly appeared in my head. I ran faster and pushed myself over my limit; feeling frustrated over the fact that all I couldn’t get him out of my head.

 

_Get out of my head_

 

I could’ve sped up if the pedestrian light hadn’t turned red. Instead I slowed down and eventually halted in front of the junction. I bent down slightly and both my palms rested on my thighs as I took deep breaths from the intense run that halted suddenly. I kept my head down as I blinked away the sweat that got into the brim of my eyes.

 

Jung Daehyun really messed up my head.

 

I headed home. Just as I entered the front building of my apartment an old lady came out.

 

_The grandmother that lives beside me._

 

I never really talked to any neighbors ever since I moved in. I’m not the social type of person. She was carrying a few large bags of trash. I rushed over to help her with the trashes because I’m just that kind hearted person.

 

“Oh! Youngjae! It’s so good to see you!”

 

She knows my name and I don’t know hers and we’ve been neighbors. Now I feel bad.

 

* * *

 

She invited me in to her apartment for breakfast. I was about to reject her offer when small voices from Daehyun played at the back of my head.

 

_“Maybe you should start by socializing with the grandmother who lives on your right, you might find out more about the history of this apartment building.”_

 

She serves nice bacon with some pancakes. Free food, who doesn’t like it? I sat at her dining table as she placed the plates down along with a cup of tea.

“Youngjae-ah, I’ve never seen you around for so long! How’ve you been?”

 

I took a bite of the bacon before answering.

“I’ve been good. Just so caught up with work I come back home at ungodly hours everyday.”

 

“Don’t overwork yourself, a young man like you should be out having fun, not just work and work all the time!”

 

“I’ll be fine, grandmother. If I don’t work and have fun everyday, I won’t be able to feed myself.”

 

“It’s okay, grandmother will feed you!”

 

I gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll keep that offer in mind.”

 

She gave me a wide, toothy smile as she ate her breakfast.

 

Grandmother lives alone. That’s all I really know about her. I don’t know if she has spouse who would occasionally come visit her or what she does to support herself. I once overheard one of the neighbor’s conversation about her during some family day event which I attended because of free food. They said she has a son, but no one ever seen him visit her before.

 

I chewed on my bacon as I remembered the main reason why I accepted her offer to be here.

 

I swallowed my food with a barely audile gulp as I spoke. “Grandmother, how long have you been living in this apartment? You seem like you’ve been here for quite a long time.”

 

“Oh, I’ve been living here close to 40 years.” She paused a little. “It’s just you who’s always busy with work coming back at odd hours. I barely see you too ever since you moved in here, Youngjae-ah.”

 

“I shall come visit you more often then, Grandmother. I want food whenever I come!”

 

* * *

 

I walked around Grandmother’s living room after having an argument on who should do the dishes with her. Don’t get me wrong, I insist that I should do the dishes but she pushed me away out from the kitchen.

 

Her living room is simple and organized, unlike mine with magazines and pizza boxes spread all over. It gives off a very homely feel. Reminds me of how much I actually missed home.

 

However, something inside this small room caught my attention. Sitting at the very far corner beside the couch on top of a small coffee table is a photo framed up in black frames. I walked towards it and picked it up. It was a photo of Grandmother, perhaps when she was younger,  _with a certain devil name Jung Daehyun._

 

“Youngjae-ah, what are you looking at?”

 

I did not reply her. My eyes widened as I continued staring at the photo. I could recognize this face anywhere. He looks exactly like the Daehyun I constantly encounter in the elevator. He has his arms wrapped around grandmother’s waist from behind as he rested his chin on her chin. His dark raven hair and mole under his eyes. The only thing different from the Daehyun in this photo is that he smiled.

 

He has such beautiful smile. His eyes sparkle with happiness you could feel it through this piece of glossy paper.

 

_Daehyun…_

 

I don’t know when did Grandmother walked over and stood beside me. She looked over my shoulders and gently took the photo away from me.

 

“That’s my son. It would be nice if he’s still here. You would probably meet him. “

 

My mind spun, fixing pieces and pieces of puzzle. “He’s not here?”

 

Grandmother gave a bitter smile as she placed it back on the coffee table. “No. He’s no longer here.”

 

“What happened to him?”

 

“He died in a fire incident 30 years ago.” She’s starting to become emotional as she choked back a tiny sob.  

 

"Youngjae-ah did you know there used to be 14 floors on this apartment?"

 

I didn't know what to say, and she took my silence as a sign to continue. 

 

“That fire took away the whole floor. The 14th floor. He was sleeping in his room and I was out when the fire happened.”

 

Everything started to make sense. That dream I had was the scene of how Daehyun died. In a fire.

_It must hurt so badly_

 

I averted my eyes away from Grandmother to see Daehyun standing at the corner of the living room. Same old dull expression, a huge contrast with the Daehyun I see in this photo. He stared at us, I could see his eyes reflect light due to tears. My lips quiver as I tried to say something,  _anything._

 

“Sometimes, I feel like he’s still by my side.” I turned my attention back to Grandmother. “It feels like he’s always here, taking care of me. I could always feel his presence around me. He’s probably here right now too, in this room. Just that I couldn’t see him.”

 

She smiled bitterly as tears streamed her wrinkled face.

 

I looked back at Daehyun. This time, he wasn’t staring at us. He spaced out, and he’s crying.

 

I smiled. It’s a genuine one. “I’m sure he’s always here with you, Grandmother. He’ll always be here with you.”

 

* * *

 

Just as Youngjae unlocked the door to his apartment from Grandmother's, he was pulled inside by a pair of strong arms. The intruder slammed the door behind him and pushed Youngjae against the door, both hands cupping his face, kissing him hard.

 

Youngjae couldn’t process what was happening. How Daehyun was able to touch him when he obviously wasn't human was something Youngjae couldn't understand. 

 

The feeling of Daehyun touching him felt surreal, yet felt so right.

 

 

_He decided to give in, anyway._

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally on AFF. I'm moving them here now!
> 
> Ask me questions on tumblr! @replaymysoul-x3.tumblr.com


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